


Little Kisses

by NorroenDyrd



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Kissing, Boys Kissing, Dorks in Love, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, Gentle Kissing, Girls Kissing, Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, Romance, Romantic Fluff, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 18:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12138360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorroenDyrd/pseuds/NorroenDyrd
Summary: Each Inquisitor (with one non-Inquisitor Trevelayn mixed in) has a very specific place where they are fond of kissing their lover, and very specific reasons why.





	Little Kisses

Ralav Cadash likes kissing Cassandra’s stomach – and not just because this is as high as he can reach when they stand pinned in a narrow, intimately dark corner, clothes strewn around them on the floor, the sounds of the world floating away in a muffled cloud. As he traces his lips along her skin, his beard tickling her, a hot flushed wave rushes through her body – and he can sense it, so gentle and yet so strong, strong enough to be felt through a coarse layer of scars old and new; a precious warmth that is usually concealed by cold, hard steel, and that he alone is allowed to touch and taste. And that is what makes these stolen moments so very special.

 

 

Malinka Cadash, for all her dwarven stockiness, is surprisingly nimble and agile – as demanded by her former calling as a Carta assassin. And her lover’s sheer size gives her plenty of opportunity for playful exercises. One of her particular favourites is climbing up Bull’s back and, with her knees resting on his shoulders and her elbows on his horns, bend over so that their faces touch, and nuzzle against his nose. She kisses him, too, planting little pecks all along the bridge of his nose and between his eyebrows. They both remember a time when Bull was puzzled by these fleeting brushes of the dwarf’s lips – too used to the notion that the touching of the tongues is part of stress-relieving foreplay, he did not quite ‘get’ the point of quick kisses. But now – now this silly little ride on his shoulders has become a regular greeting. A way of assuring him that kadan is here, and they are good. It’s all good.

 

 

One of the first kisses that Barenziah Lavellan first shared with Cullen was on his temple – a stupid impulse, really, one that she later regretted and grumbled to herself about as damaging to her cynic’s reputation. His skin was hot then, feverishly so, his pulse jerking madly beneath her lips, and when she drew away, she remembers feeling terrified, as she had almost physically sensed his thirst for lyrium crawling under his skin like some living, parasitic creature. But that was long ago; now, his pulse is steadier, drumming a calm, assured rhythm whenever she stands on tiptoe to kiss him. Maybe all that rubbish Cole was spewing has some ring of sense to it after all - stronger when you hold him.

 

Aidan Trevelyan is by no means a soft man. He rarely allows himself to exchange any tokens of affection – not even with his closest friends, or his own daughter, the young mage Inquisitor. When, upon barely escaping from a rampaging lyrium-tainted giant in Emprise de Lion, he accompanied his curt, dry ‘You’re alive’ with a tender kiss on Dorian’s cheek, he himself was just as startled as his lover. The two stared at each other for a few moments – and slowly, as the snowflakes circling down all around them, a thought sank in that this little kiss meant more than all the prolonged bites and thirsty licks during the nights they had shared. That what they had meant more. And ever since then, despite all the other, more passionate kisses that keep passing between them, Aidan’s favourite kiss is always, and forever, on his… what is that beautiful Tevinter word… amatus’s cheek.

 

 

When all falls quiet and the rays of the setting sun caress the rooftops of Skyhold, Ana Trevelyan leans down, with what sounds like both a blissful sigh and an intake of breath before a dive, and presses her lips against Sera’s neck. She kisses the elf long and hard, making her wriggle and snicker excitedly – but Sera has no way of knowing that the real purpose of Ana’s kiss is to hide her face. It is best that she never knows, too – because she’ll likely get scared by the sight of tears in her lover’s eyes, and roll up her tattered sleeves and demand to know who made ‘Tadwinks’ cry so she can punch them where it hurts. And Ana still has not found a proper way in which she might explain that… that she is crying because, after a lifetime learning how to be the most venomous in a nest full of vipers, how to conceal her emotions and keep her mind sharp as a dagger, its perfect clarity unclouded – this is the most herself that she has ever felt. That instead of a matriarch of a sprawling, bickering clan, like her mother before her, she would rather be a wild thing that runs around and throws pies at people. This train of thought still unsettles her, because it is so unlike all she has been taught; it will be long before she comes to terms with it. But at least for now, she has this roof, and stale cookies, and kisses on Sera’s neck.

 

 

Farkhad Adaar likes kissing Josephine’s hand whenever they start or finish a conversation. He holds it very lightly, looking sheepish, frightened even, as if he is afraid to crush Josephine’s delicate fingers in that has often been described as his ‘massive grey paw’. The process of lifting his cherished little human’s hand to his mouth always seems to last forever, and, his heart fluttering, he finds himself thinking that this was probably a bad idea; that, any moment now, he will trip over his own feet and break something – or, Maker forbid, hurt Josephine. But somehow, miraculously, nothing disastrous ever happens; and when Farkhad’s lips touch the Ambassador’s skin, he casts a quick glance at her – and sees her smiling. He is learning – by Andraste, he is learning!

 

 

Saarath Adaar has spent most of her adult life with her mouth sewn shut – and even now that she has learned how to use her voice to shape words, she still frequently falls back on the sign language that she once used to commune with her Arvaraad. And though the others fail to understand her tentative gestures most of the time, there are still some things that are best expressed without words. Like when she bows down and kisses Blackwall on the forehead – and then, remains standing with her lips resting against his skin, in no hurry to let him go. She needs him to feel it, the texture of her scars where the threads once were – she needs him to know that she understands. And she thinks he does know, even though no words are ever exchanged when she kisses him like this. Because for a moment, just before she steps away, he clings to her closer, his arms wrapped tight around her waist and back, and as she closes her eyes and runs her fingers through his hair, she suddenly feels like she is the Arvaraad… No, they are both Arvaraad. Leading one another far, far away from their demons.

 

 

 


End file.
